Cherry in the Wheels
by moonswirl
Summary: Gleekathon, day seven hundred and fifty-eight: After his Slushie firing squad hit, Artie can count on her to help.


_Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 36th cycle. Now cycle 37!_

* * *

><p><strong>"Cherry in the Wheels"<br>Artie/Brittany, Beiste**

**_[A/N: And though she's not the biggest Bartie fan and I would have scheduled something else_  
><em>for this day had I known, just taking a moment to wish a happy birthday to the one and only Catbast!<em>  
><em>Love ya! *mwah* Here's some cake! And a story ;)]<em> **

Once the mayhem in the choir room had ended and the football players and Glee Club members were parted and sent back to their corners, the room cleared out soon enough. The football players went out one door, Glee Club went out the other… Brittany had grabbed on the handles of Artie's chair and rolled him into the hall. "Don't worry, I'll help get you cleaned up," she told him.

"Thanks, everything's just sticky, I…" The chair jerked to a stop and he tried to look back at her. "What's wrong, why'd you stop?"

"Where do I go?" she asked.

"The bathroom," he spoke, obviously.

"No, I know, but which one?" she pointed to the two doors – boys or girls. Now he understood her dilemma.

"If you don't want to go in the boys' room, it's okay," he insisted. "I mean I know you probably never saw what it looks like in there."

"Oh, no, I've been there before," she spoke plainly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out the circumstances, but then… "I thought it was the girls' room…"

"Oh…" he couldn't hide his relief, though looking at her face now there was something like a memory behind her eyes, a little smirk, and now he wished he hadn't looked. "Let's just… go to the girls' room. I think my humiliation has reached its limit today anyway. And it's probably a lot cleaner in there."

"It really is," she nodded. So she turned the chair toward the girls' bathroom and they went in. There was a momentary shriek from a couple of Cheerios who'd been at the sinks.

"Hello…" he spoke flatly, awkward.

"Can we have the room?" Brittany asked. The girls protested. "I'll tell Coach Sylvester why you really missed rehearsal last month…" The girls cleared out in a flash.

"What'd they do?" Artie asked when the door closed behind them.

"I don't know. Santana's the one who told me about it, she wouldn't say," she explained while she went to get paper towels and ran them under water, squeezed out the excess. "Here, take off your glasses, she instructed and he did. Taking him carefully by the chin, she started scrubbing out the sticky stuff that had dried on his face. He couldn't do more than to sit there and let her work. "This sucks…"

"I know. I'm going to need my gym clothes or something." It was probably a good thing she'd already seen him without clothes or he would have blushed right through the red Slushie coating on his skin, his clothes, everywhere.

"No, not that," she shook her head. "It sucks that they did this to you." He let out a breath.

"I thought it wouldn't end, just cup after cup, and I didn't want to choke…" Her eyes softened, hating to think what it had been like for him. After a moment she reached to clean off his cheek and then kissed the spot she'd just cleared, smiled at him. It worked, and he was smiling too. Once she was done with his face and neck, she got him to the sinks.

"Are you able to lean your head back in there?" she asked, and he did. "Wait, I don't have shampoo…"

"It's okay," he shrugged. "Just getting the stuff out of there should already help."

"Okay," she nodded, started rinsing out his hair. She had gentle hands, always… part of what he liked so much about her. She started laughing all of a sudden.

"What is it?" he asked. Without his glasses, he could just vaguely see her face above him.

"I just pictured Azimio singing Gaga…" she told him, and he chuckled.

"Or Journey… You haven't told Schuester about the one song we didn't do, right?"

"Never," she shook her head. "It's a good song," she shrugged.

"Yeah, but it's better we keep it for a rainy day," he explained.

"It rained yesterday," Brittany pointed out.

"Not that kind of rainy day," he shook his head as though to say 'never mind,' and in the process splashed water, making her jump. "Sorry…"

"It's okay," she insisted. "You should see when I have to give Lord Tubbington a bath. He's big but he can run when he wants to," she shook her head.

When she was done with his hair, she asked where his gym clothes were, and when he told her they were in the football locker room, she offered to go get them. "I can't just stay in here," he pointed out. "This is the girls' room, they'll think I'm peeping. Also if I'm going to have to change…" he blinked. "I can go with you."

"No, but… what if they're still in there, the guys…" she shook her head, and now he realized she'd been concerned for him.

"It's fine, they'll be gone, and if they're not, Coach Beiste will be there." She was still hesitating. He put his hand over hers. "I'll be fine." She smiled cautiously. "Want to come watch a movie at my house after?" Finally she nodded.

"Let's go," she moved to retrieve his glasses and hand them to him. He put them on and they left the bathroom, heading to the locker room. The way she walked you would have thought she was some kind of bodyguard; no one would get by her, no cup, not even a word. When they got to the locker room, she poked her head in, pulled it back out.

"Anyone?" he asked, and she held up three fingers. "Is Coach Beiste in there?" She pulled up a fourth finger. "Get her out here?" She nodded and went in. A moment later she came back out with the Coach in tow. She'd seen Artie's state back in the choir room, and now seeing the half done clean-up job, it didn't take much explanation to get her help. She swept back into the locker room, her voice boomed out, and the three players came stumbling out and off down the hall. After letting Artie and Brittany in, she locked the door to make sure no one would come in while Brittany was helping Artie change. For a moment, Brittany stopped just inside the door, staring at the Coach like she was trying to remember something, but then she'd shrugged it off and wheeled Artie off. The Coach let out a breath; she knew what little inkling was trying to wrestle its way out of the girl's mind, and she wasn't going to let her connect the dots.

Artie went to his locker and opened it, pulling out his extra set of gym clothes. "Okay…" she started to say, like she was trying to work out how to do this.

"You don't have to," he offered her a chance to let him take care of things on his own; at this point he could probably manage. But ever the loyal girlfriend, she wasn't backing down.

"Just be quiet and take your clothes off," she told him, and he looked around, startled.

"I…" he wasn't sure what to say, and she just kept staring back at him, waiting. "Sorry, I was kind of expecting to wake up or something…" She kept waiting. "Yeah, alright," he got to it.

"How does this part work?" she asked, unsure. "Do you want me to carry you into the shower?"

"N-no, that's fine, I can manage," he told her, recalling the last time she'd picked him up like a weightless doll… It was startling.

"I can clean up your chair," she suggested.

"That'd be good, actually," he agreed. Before long he had surrendered the rest of his Slushied clothes and the chair while he sat and washed up; he got to wash his hair after all. When he was done though, having turned off the water and grabbed the towel she'd left him, he was no longer sticky but very much stuck. "Brittany?" he called out to her. After a moment she appeared at the entrance to the showers. "How's it going?" he asked casually. She smiled and moved back to pull his chair into view.

"All set," she showed him.

"Thanks," he nodded. She helped him into the gym clothes and, to keep him from slipping and falling, convinced him to let her lift him back into his chair. They went back out to the benches where she sat facing him.

"Coach Beiste said she'd get your clothes cleaned for you."

"Great," he was truly thankful for what the woman had done for him, then and before. They had gotten off on a rocky start, but eventually things had turned around.

Brittany reached over, smiling as she ran her fingers through Artie's wet hair, trying to put some order to it. "Feel better?" she asked, and he nodded, taking up her hand from his hair so he could hold it, his fingers clasping hers.

"Much better, thanks to you." She leaned over, her words fading as she kissed him.

"Too bad you don't smell like cherries anymore…"

THE END

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is a one-shot ficlet, which means that signing up for story alert will not bring you any alerts.  
><strong>**In the event of a sequel, the story will be separate from this one. And as chapter stories go, they are  
><strong>******always clearly indicated as such [ex: "Days 204-210" in the summary] Thank you!******


End file.
